


Say it again

by ZaaraWatson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 06:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaaraWatson/pseuds/ZaaraWatson
Summary: „Its not true and you know it.“ he said in a calm voice which made even his own skin crawl. Sherlock dropped his head he could not bear to look at John, into his beautiful eyes he was lost in, the first time they met.





	Say it again

**Author's Note:**

> Again not the best English you will ever read. But made with love. Not decided if there will be more chapters....so this is it...I am sorry...

„I don’t love you.“

 

Johns heart missed a beat, it felt like it was about to explode and just leave a big pile of dust. He managed to catch a breath. 

„Its not true and you know it.“ he said in a calm voice which made even his own skin crawl. Sherlock dropped his head he could not bear to look at John, into his beautiful eyes he was lost in, the first time they met. 

„Oh no don’t give me that shit! Look at me! Say you don’t love me and convince me of the truth in your words. Right now, I don’t believe your bullshit!“

Sherlock forced himself to look at John. He looked him straight in the eyes managed to give him the eye contact John needed to believe him. Cold, distant his face without any emotion, but his voice was not as steady as he wanted it to be, at least for his own ears.

„I don’t love you, John.“ and with those words he turned and walked away, forcing himself not to turn around and just keep walking even he heard John collapsing on the pavement, because his legs gave in. 

With that Sherlock was gone.

John was embarrassed, that his emotions hit him so hard he could not stop sobbing or keep standing. His body gave in completely right after Sherlocks words.

_„I don’t love you, John.“_

He was not used to it, to those feelings which seem to steal all of his pride. All of this was so overwhelming, so fast so unreal that in the end this was the only conclusion. 

_„I don’t love you, John.“_

Hell he even just figured out his own true self, that alone was enough to deal with. Not that shit. Hell not that. He felt rage boil up in him and John made his way up to his feet again his face still wet with tears.

_„I don’t love you, John.“_

„Not like this you......for fuck sake. Fuck you! Nobody has the power to make me feel like that. Not even bloody Sherlock Holmes!“ 

He was hurt and angry but mostly hurt. 

He loved Sherlock, he never loved anyone as much as he loved him. Even before they decided to go further. 

But it does not matter now. Because Sherlock decided he does not love him. He never loved him probably. It was just a joke, an experiment, all for science. How Johns breathing would change if his mouth was on him. How the skin on his neck was spread with red spots every time he made him come so hard, he would see stars and was afraid he would never come back from that bliss and found himself not to care. How Johns pupils must have been dilated every time Sherlock covered his lips with his own softness. Hell they must have been almost black every damn time.

Sherlock only wanted to prove a point probably, that John was not straight. His only goal was to humiliate him, make him doubt. Or not doubt about his own sexuality. Damn it, he could not think straight. John chuckled.

„Damn it!Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!“

His fist hit a brick wall hard enough to cause him pain.

_„I don’t love you, John.“_

He looked down at his fist covered in blood.

„Shit!“

 

Sherlock almost did run after he was out of Johns sight his own steps echoed so loud in his own ears,he thought he was surrounded by people. But he was alone.Alone. He welcomed a dark alley, he was relieved he could hide behind a corner for a while and having a solid wall against his back for support. His breaths were fast his skin was hot. He did gasp for air but it did seem, outside here in the streets of London, all of the oxygen was gone. He took off his scarf, threw away his coat almost in panic and dropped to his knees still grasping for air. But it won’t come. No matter how deep he would breath in. 

It would never come back. Never. 


End file.
